


Folie a Deux

by thePetetoherPatrick



Series: Dreams and Nightmares [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Depression, Mental Health Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-01 23:38:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6541426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thePetetoherPatrick/pseuds/thePetetoherPatrick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people are born with tragedy in their blood. I don’t know why but it’s the truth. I’ll never understand why but I guess I’m one of those people. My life was doomed from the start. As a child I challenged every limit stacked against me......</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pete

**Author's Note:**

> Another piece for a writing prompt:  
> Some people are born with tragedy in their blood.  
> courtesy of inkstay.tumblr.com  
> It was a prompt that very quickly gave me an idea but was very hard to actually write.

Some people are born with tragedy in their blood. I don’t know why but it’s the truth. I’ll never understand why but I guess I’m one of those people. My life was doomed from the start. As a child I challenged every limit stacked against me. As a teenager I flat out refused to conform. I was that guy that got a tattoo at fifteen, cut his own hair to be chunky and emo looking when I straightened it, wore black eyeliner, and drank too much and may have slept around. I was my mother’s worst nightmare. Hell I’m still that guy but with a few more tattoos and no longer a teenager. I’m even in a band. The band has been doing pretty good though. Even Patrick says we’re going somewhere now. 

As one of those people who was designed as doomed or tragic I’d of course had my fair share of ups and downs, mostly downs though. Tonight was one of those nights and I can’t seem to fall asleep in the hotel bed I share with Pattycakes, in the small hotel room we are staying in, in one of the smallest towns we’ve ever been to. So I crawl out of bed and pull on my skinny jeans and a loose sleeveless shirt and head out the door into the mild night air. We are right downtown so I don’t walk real far. Just down to the river that runs directly through the middle of town. I lean on the railing along the edge and look up at the stars. You can actually see them tonight, they are pretty. I stand there calmly breathing the cool air. One car drives by but other than that the whole town is quiet. It’s like midnight so it’s not too surprising. I stand there for about a half hour just looking at the sky. 

I look over at the little wooden bridge that goes over the river, it’s not big enough for cars just a foot bridge, and that’s when I notice her. I don’t know when she got there but I can say with certainty she doesn’t know I’m even here. I watch her a bit and realize she’s dressed pretty much the same as me. Tight black skinny jeans, and a dark t-shirt with the neck and sleeves cut off. I can’t make out what the logo on the front is but I’m willing to bet it’s not Metallica. I keep watching her as she just stands there on the wrong side of the railing with her pale face turned up to the sky, her skin and white blonde hair reflecting the moonlight. There’s something amiss about her though. Her hair is tucked in a messy braid with strands hanging out all over the place but that’s not the strangest thing about her. The strangest thing would probably be the fact that her feet are bare against the rough wood of the ledge she stands on. 

I watch her for a few minutes, just watching this strange girl. She moves finally after what seems like forever. She looks down at the water below her and grasps at something around her neck. I can only just make out the faintest glimmer of a silver chain. Then it hits me like a brick wall and suddenly I know why she’s there and what she’s doing. 

My body moves before my mind can register what I should do. I move faster than I think I’ve ever moved in my life. I reach over the rail and hook my arms around her midsection to haul her away from the edge. Lifting her takes more effort than I’d have thought but I don’t care. She tried to scream and struggle but I get her over the rail and sit with her in my lap, my hand over her mouth to keep from waking the whole town. She pulls at my hand, her black nails biting into the flesh. I simply ignore her, I know she can breath, and shush her. My arms tight around her I rock side to side gently and start humming the first tune that comes to mind, which ends up being Enter Sandman. We sit there like that till she relaxes against me, her head resting against my throat. I take my hand away from her mouth and hug her tight. She doesn’t make a sound beyond her ragged, uneven breathing. I look at her face and realize two things. First, she’s even prettier up close, wearing no makeup other than eyeliner and mascara. And second, she’s crying. I run my hand up and down her arm, which is more heavily tattooed then even me. 

“You’re okay,” I say quietly. “Shhhh, I’m not gonna let go of you, I’m not leaving you here, you’ll be okay.” 

I take notice of everything I didn’t before. Her shirt is in fact not Metallica, it’s AC/DC. Her tattoos cover her arms and go up one side of her neck. There’s one on the back of her neck too. The chain around her neck holds a bright blue pendant with a symbol on it that I can’t quite make out from here. She’s a little taller than me and about as big around as me, which explains the challenge in getting her over the rail. She’s all legs though, they make up a good portion of her height. 

“What’s your name?” I ask hoping to get her to talk. “Mine’s Pete.” She doesn’t say anything, but her breathing has smoothed out a bit. I look down at her and see she’s opened her eyes. I’m met with the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. She just watches me with wide eyes and then it dawns on me. 

“You recognize me, don’t you?” I ask, not looking away. She nods gently. “Want me to let go of you now?” She considers it for a minute before shaking her head. I rest my chin on the top of her head. She makes a noise I almost don’t catch. “Hmmm?” I ask in an effort to get her to repeat it.

“Elle,” she says, her voice very quiet. “You asked my name, it’s Elizabeth but I don’t answer to that so everyone calls me Elle.” 

“That’s a pretty name.” I say, happy that she’s speaking at least. “Well Elle, do you want to move somewhere where we are less likely to get a numb ass from sitting on this bridge?” I ask without moving and feel her nod. I let go of her for a second to stand up, before I reach down and pull her up too. “Where are your shoes, by the way?” 

“At home.” She says like it’s a common occurrence and I can’t help but laugh. 

“Well alright then.” I shake my head and we start walking. I can’t think of anywhere to go so we go back to the hotel room and slip past the guys out to the balcony. I sit on the soft little sofa that’s meant for reading or something. I pat the seat beside me and she curls up smaller than should be possible for her. I put my arm around her and hug her close to me. She doesn’t fight it so I assume it must help or that she doesn’t mind at least.

“So do you wanna talk about why you were there?” I ask with a slight lump in my throat. She remains silent and shakes her head. “You know it’s okay to talk to me right?” I squeeze her shoulders gently. “Chances are I’ll get it. If you know anything about what I’ve been through this year you should know that I’ll at least partially get it.” 

“I know.” She says quietly. “I just can’t talk about it right now.” 

“Alright, I can understand that.” I frown at her. “We can talk when you feel up to it.” She nods and just sits there, which is ok. She’s very warm, and doesn’t seem to notice the wind at all. She starts to lean her weight on me and I realize she’s fallen asleep. I get comfy, deciding on not moving till she wakes up. It doesn’t take long with her leaning on me for my eyelids to get heavy.


	2. Elle

Some people are born with tragedy in their blood. I never thought of myself as one of them though. Looking at me, my life, you’d never guess. All my pictures as a kid are smiles and family and would make you believe I was just a normal happy kid. Maybe I was at some point and if that’s true then I can’t help but wonder what changed. When and where did it all go wrong? 

I wake up and look around, I’m on a balcony with an arm around me. I look over and see he’d fallen asleep with me. My mind takes over and I relive last night…

I look up at the night sky as I hold onto the railing of the bridge. It wasn’t easy to get on this side of the railing. I don’t quite fit though the gaps so I had to climb over. The breeze is gentle tonight, making loose strands of my messy hair dance against my skin. 

The stars shine clearly tonight. At least they get to have some clarity. I close my eyes and just feel. There’s nothing, no emotion. Not any real ones anyway. Just numb emptiness. It’s nothing new but that’s not to say I could ever truly get used to it. Something inside me is broken and has been for years. I’m not always numb but a good chunk of the time I am. 

I suppose maybe I was always broken, just damaged and useless from the beginning. But then how do you explain my childhood? I open my eyes to the sky again. I’ll never know. I’m not a child anymore. I can’t hide behind innocence and just rely on others to take care of me. Not that they’d ever want to anyway. Why would anyone want someone like me, I have nothing going for me. I can never fathom why the few friends I have stick around, it’s not like I’m fun to hang out with or anything. I’m not real good at anything no matter what they keep trying to convince me. And I’m not funny. I have no good jokes or funny stories to tell. I’m not the least bit attractive either, though my mother may argue but she’s my mom, it’s like in the mother’s handbook that you have to think your daughter is pretty no matter what she looks like. 

Over the last few years I’ve become my mother’s nightmare though, or at least that’s how it seems. I make stupid mistakes and break rules for no real reason. My jeans are too tight, my shirts don’t cover enough, and I don’t wear enough colour. I know she hates that my hair covers half my face, and thinks I wear too much eyeliner that’s far too dark for me, but I like it. It just feels right. I’m the girl who listens to music too loud and listens to bands too much. No one in my house understands why I love Fall Out Boy and all those other bands so much, but I love the way the music makes you feel. The sound of it, the lyrics, the singers’ voices. The pounding of the drums and bass. It takes away the pain and the numbness at the same time. 

I look down at the river below me. It’s not very deep, never really has been to be honest. The water is probably cold but that wouldn’t bother me, I’m always warm anyway. The fire inside me keeps me warm. I can feel it flare up in my rib-cage as I think about it. Tonight it’s only faint though, a weak flame trying to stay alive while being smothered. The numb ache has too strong a hold. I clutch at the pentacle pendant around my neck. My gods have failed me tonight. 

I look at the water. No one will miss me, there’s nothing to miss. They’ll probably breathe a sigh of relief when I’m gone. Before I can get my bare foot away from the wood of the bridge, I feel a set of strong arms wrap around my torso and heave. My first instinct is to scream and struggle. What idiot would try to save me? Obviously not someone real bright. I scream and try to wiggle my way out of the hold but a hand clamps over my mouth. I claw at the hand over my mouth, my painted black nails breaking the skin and drawing blood but it doesn’t seem to phase them. They shush me and hold me in their lap, sitting on the bridge. They start to hum a familiar tune. Enter Sandman by Metallica, I realize and my mind provides the lyrics as the song plays in my head. Who would even know that tune well enough to hum it. The voice sounds male. He sits there and rocks side to side. It’s calming. My body relaxes without my consent, my head rests in the crook of his neck. I think he speaks but I don’t hear him, I’m not listening. 

The only thing that catches my attention is when he says his name is Pete. I look up to see the guy holding me, put a face to the name, and am met with dark brown eyes. The kind that turn to a whiskey colour in the sunlight. His face is familiar to me. That choppy black hair and eyeliner. The soft line of his jaw sets into a hard frown and his eyebrows furrow together in concern. Why in the hell is Pete Wentz holding me? Why would he save me? He asks if I recognize him and I nod. 

“Want me to let go of you now?” He asks and I honestly should say yes but I don’t actually feel like I have it in me to actually make myself move right now, so I shake my head.

It registers in my mind finally that he asked me what my name was at some point. “Elle.” I mumble, he doesn’t hear me and gets me to repeat myself. “Elle,” I say again. “You asked me my name, it’s Elizabeth but I don’t answer to that so everyone calls me Elle.” 

He smiles without seeming to realize it and tells me my name is pretty. I disagree but I don’t tell him that. He’s not at all the way I thought he’d be. He’s very soft spoken, though that could be in an effort to calm me down. He’s almost as warm as I am, and he holds me tight, not holding back at all just hugging me like he might hug Patrick if he were upset. He’s stronger than he looks at first glance but he’s also smaller than me. I’d thought he was like six foot tall at least but he’s not. He’s not much shorter than me but it’s noticeable. 

He asks me if I want to move somewhere more comfortable and I hesitate. He’s been trustworthy so far, just being gentle and kind. I nod and he helps me up.

Then he looks at my feet and smiles. “Where are your shoes by the way?” He asks. I feel my face heat up, I hate shoes. 

“At home.” I say and he laughs. It’s a nice sound, easy on the ears. He leads me back to the hotel he’s staying at and we sneak past the guys all sleeping in their two beds. Patrick is by himself in a bed, while Joe and Andy share one, and I feel that it’s safe to assume that’s where Pete is meant to be.

We sit down on a sofa on the balcony and he hugs me into him. He tries to convince me to talk to him but I can’t. Not while it’s fresh in my mind. I just rest against him and it’s not long before sleep takes me.

….He starts to stir and I bolt upright, scooting away from him as he wakes. He rubs his eyes, smudging the already messy “guyliner” a little and smooths out his hair with his hand. He yawns and stretches and then stops as his eyes come to rest on me curled up on the other end of the little sofa. 

“Good morning.” He says gently. “You ready to talk now or do you want me to go get some breakfast and we can talk while we eat?” He offers. 

“M’not hungry.” I say, the thought of food nauseating me. He frowns but doesn’t push it.

“Then we’ll sit here and talk.” He reaches out to take my hands in his. His hands are somehow bigger than mine, and very rough at the edges. A musician’s hands. Calloused and rough much the same as the hands of any artist. The strings of his bass must be hard on his hands. I look up at his face and see in his eyes he’s not going to let me get away with not talking to him about it so I sigh and give up. I won’t fight him.


End file.
